


Always the Benchwarmer

by Anonymous



Series: Forbidden Kinks [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Come Eating, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Teabagging, Watersports, slight BDSM
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6433675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' life changed the day he was diagnosed with ADHD. It certainly changed more than his life when his mother was diagnosed with, and subsequently succumbed to, her dementia. And the months after that, the months where his father spent most of his time drinking and not much time with his son, well, that was something, too. </p>
<p>While all of those things were definite turning points in Stiles’ life, he doesn’t regret any of them. Sure, he wishes his mom didn’t die, and he’d give anything to be able to actually focus during any of his classes, but he can’ really regret something outside of his control. </p>
<p>But breaking Jackson’s arm during lacrosse practice at the beginning of the season of their senior year? That he regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Jackson takes complete control of Stiles’ life and makes him do increasingly more embarrassing and depraved thing at school under his orders. - Anon
> 
> So, here it is! As you can see, I eventually decided on splitting this up into parts, just to organize it a bit better. I'm not sure whether it will be 2 or 3 parts yet, so for now I'll just put 2 and add more if I have to. 
> 
> The next part will be less plotty, and more just a list of times Jackson uses Stiles at school, and will be going a lot farther into the degradation territory than this one did, I promise. I just couldn't resist having a build up to it. And for the people here for Jydia/Stydia, that will come in the future, but it's not as big a part as the Stackson is, obviously.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like it!

There are certain moments that, when they occur, they change the path of your future forever. Moments like starting high school, or scoring the winning goal in a sport. Getting your SAT score back and realizing you can go anywhere you want.

 

For Stiles Stilinski, he has those moments, but he also has bigger ones. His life changed the day he was diagnosed with ADHD. It certainly changed more than _his_ life when his mother was diagnosed with, and subsequently succumbed to, her dementia. And the months after that, the months where his father spent most of his time drinking and not much time with his son, well, that was something, too.

 

But while all of those things were definite turning points in Stiles’ life, he doesn’t regret any of them. Sure, he wishes his mom didn’t die, and he’d give anything to be able to actually focus during any of his classes, but he can’ really regret something outside of his control.

 

But breaking Jackson’s arm during lacrosse practice at the beginning of the season of their senior year? _That_ he regrets.

 

He shouldn’t have been able to do it, is the thing. Jackson is a _werewolf_ (ex-kanima werewolf, to be exact) and thus stronger and faster than Stiles will ever be, even if he were to down half a bottle of adderall. So somebody really needs to explain how when Stiles – skinny, defenseless, _human_ Stiles – rammed into Jackson during practice, he didn’t go flying, but Jackson did. Just, slammed right into the ground some 5 feet away from where they’d collided, his arm folded underneath him until – _snap!_ And wow, okay, the sound of bones breaking? Not a good sound.

 

After the whole thinking-he-died-during-a-game thing, Jackson’s parents had insisted (and paid for) a paramedic to be on scene during every lacrosse game and practice since. So even though his arm was probably already well on its way to healing when the paramedic got to him, the fact that everybody had seen and heard the bone snap meant that he couldn’t really say anything against it when the cotton and plaster came out.

 

And Jackson was not happy about it. Having to pretend to have a broken arm for six weeks, when it was actually perfectly fine, meant that he’d miss out on the first five games of the season. And those games could make or break the season for the Cyclones. And without the star player, it was more likely to be break.

 

Jackson being upset about it, of course, led to his parents being upset. And before Stiles knew it

 

“It was a _practice_ , it’s not like Stiles specifically set out to hurt the kid,” the Sheriff says angrily. “And people get hurt while playing high-contact sports – I know you received the warning letter about it when Jackson tried out, because Stiles had to get me to sign his.”

 

“Warning or not, we’re not talking about some bruising here. We’re talking a broken arm – that your kid caused. If it was just a practice, why was

 

“If he doesn’t practice his checking off the field, when is he supposed to practice it – when he’s getting bulldozed over by another team _on_ the field?”

 

“Your son never plays, he’s always on the bench. He has no real reason to be on the field anytime, let alone during a game! And what will Jackson be able to do with only one arm – and his left one at that! He’s right-handed, he won’t be able to write, he certainly won’t be able to play any of his sports. He’s not just the co-captain of the lacrosse team, he’s also captain of the swim team _and_ the soccer team.”

 

“Perhaps we could agree to have Mr. Stilinski help Mr. Whittemore out – just until the cast comes off,” the Principal suggested. “And just at school. From what I understand, they are in most of the same classes anyway, so it wouldn’t be a great imposition. He will, unfortunately, be required to sit out of any team sports until he is healed, however.”

 

“And what about after school, when Jackson is left alone with no one to help him?”

 

“If your son and Mr. Stilinski would like to spend some time together after school, I’m sure they can figure that out on their own. Right boys?”

 

Stiles looked up, confused, and then glanced at Jackson beside him. “Um, sure, but I can almost guarantee that we won’t be hanging out outside of school.”

 

Jackson sneered. “Why would I want to hang out with you? I get enough of you here.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“So do we have an agreement?” Principal Thomas interrupted the boys. “Stiles will assist Jackson out at the school – will share any notes Jackson can’t write down, help him carry anything he can’t on his own, things like that – during school hours, and should the need arise, outside of school as well. Deal?”

 

Stiles could tell that his father was revving up to make another argument against it being his fault, but Mr. Whittemore was looking quite smug, so he knew it was the best he was going to get on that front. “Deal.”

 

“Alright, starting tomorrow morning and ending when Mr. Whittemore’s cast comes off in six weeks, Mr. Stilinski will help him out. Case solved.”

 

His dad was still slightly red with anger as they made their way out to the parking lot, the Whittemore family angrily storming off towards their own volley of expensive cars. The Sheriff had parked his car beside the jeep, and so they stopped between the two vehicles.

 

“This is ridiculous,” his dad said. “The kid’s a werewolf, his arm was probably already healed before they even started putting the cast on.”

 

“But his parents don’t know, and I’m sure you think they have the right to know, but if he doesn’t want to tell them, then none of the pack will. And there’s also the fact that everybody saw it happen

 

“I still don’t like this. He’s going to take advantage of you, I just know it.”

 

“Dad, it’ll be fine,” Stiles assured his father.

 

~~

 

Stiles received a text a few hours later, just before dinner. It was from Jackson, and he was pretty sure it was the first time the asshole had ever bothered to use his number.

 

_We have some things to discuss. Be at dinner in half an hour._

He mouthed the words, adding the sneer he was sure had been on the werewolf’s face as he’d typed the text, before sighing. “Jackson wants me over at his house for dinner tonight.”

 

His dad paused from where he had been stirring the pasta on the stove, and turned to look at him. “Do you want me to come with you?”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he just wants to berate me for messing up some more. You know Jackson. Just keep any leftovers for your lunch tomorrow; I’d rather have you eating that then

 

It was the Sheriff’s turn to roll his eyes. “Alright, just don’t be home to late.”

 

“Let’s get this straight, Stilinski,” Jackson said as soon as he entered the Whittemore’s house. “You and I both know this cast is bullshit. Therefore, you’re going to be working twice as hard to make it up to me. If I have to put up with having this on, then it only makes sense that you’ll have to put up with it, too.”

 

“Isn’t that what we already agreed on at school? I’m going to be carrying your stuff around for you and writing your notes.”

 

“But the thing is, I don’t have the cast on just at school. This thing is going to be making my life difficult _everywhere_. So, even though I don’t particularly want you around, it only makes sense that I call you over whenever there is something I really need done.”

 

“I’m not going to be your slave, Jackson.”

 

The werewolf shrugged. “Alright, I guess I’ll just have to let my father know that he can go ahead with that lawsuit, then. You know, it took me over an hour to convince him that I would take care of this, and that there was no point in suing you.

 

Stiles sighed, agitated. “Your dad can’t sue me for hitting you in lacrosse practice, dumbass. I didn’t technically do anything wrong.”

 

“My father is the best lawyer in the state. I think he knows well enough what he can sue people for. And he’ll win. Do you really want a lawsuit on your father’s shoulders?”

 

He gulped. Mr. Whittemore _was_ a fantastic lawyer. He’d been known to win more than 95% of his cases, despite how ludicrous some of them were. “So, basically, unless I act as your little slave, your dad will sue me and my dad.”

 

“Now you’re getting it. We’ll go over some more of your expected duties after dinner, but for now, just heat up the plates in fridge. My mother was nice enough to cook for us both before they went out to dinner.”

 

Stiles reluctantly did as asked, figuring it would be easier to just go along with it. While the food was heating up, he also found a cup and filled it with water, placing it next to Jackson at the table. It had barely been there a second before the werewolf had tipped it over, leaving the water to spill out over the table. Stiles sighed.

 

“Oops,” Jackson said mockingly. “Someone better clean that up, and seeing how I’ve only got one arm, I guess that someone is going to have to be you.”

 

“Pretty sure it doesn’t take two hands to use some paper towels,” Stiles muttered, already going to grab said towels.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Good. Hurry up and eat, I want to get this over with.”

 

Following Jackson up the stairs after dinner was surreal. He’d never thought that he would ever even be in this house, let alone get to see anything more than the foyer.

 

Considering how rich he was, Jackson’s room was pretty empty. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it probably had been along the lines of wall-to-wall Apple products or something. But maybe that was the way of the rich – minimalistic and empty of any personality. Now that he thought of it, that last part described Jackson to a tee.

 

“Before going to bed every night, I usually like to indulge in a little me time. However, being right-handed and all, I won’t be able to do it myself, so you’re going to have to do it.”

 

Stiles looked at him blankly, and Jackson took it up himself to move his good wrist in a vague motion, pumping it back and forth twice. His eyes widened. “You can’t seriously be saying what I think you’re saying.”

 

“Oh, I am. Come on, pull me out,” Jackson said sternly, gesturing towards his pants. Stiles gulped.

 

“Come on, dude, are you serious about this?”

 

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “You said you’d do anything.”

 

“Yea, but this is a little _beyond_ what we discussed at school. This is me touching your dick – and in case you’ve forgotten, not only am I a _guy_ , but I’m also Stiles, the guy you’ve hated since forever. You can’t seriously want me to touch your dick.”

 

Jackson huffed, and he could hear a bit of a growl behind it. “Of course I don’t want _you_ touching my dick, Stilinski. But I do want to get off, and considering you’ve put me in quite the position with your little stunt, you’ll just have to do it for me. Or do you want to revisit that lawsuit possibility some more?”

 

Slow as a glacier, Stiles found himself reaching out towards the waistband of Jackson’s sweatpants, and pulling them down. While he probably should have been surprised, he really wasn’t that Jackson wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It was clear now that he’d been planning this from the start.

 

Jackson’s dick was soft, but it was clear to see that it was about the same size as his own, if maybe a little bit bigger. As he reached out to touch it, it jerked a little bit, but didn’t grow in size.

 

“You’re probably going to have to work at it a bit, sorry,” Jackson sneered, not sounding sorry at all. “Since it’s you doing it, and all. It’ll take me some time to get over the fact that it’s you, but hopefully my imagination will hold up in this case.”

 

Closing his eyes, Stiles began fondling the dick in his hand lightly. It felt weird, and gross, to be holding another guy’s dick, but he didn’t really see how he had a choice. Feeling over the soft, warm skin, he eventually decided to just treat it as his own. When it started leaking precum, he swallowed through the vague gagging feeling in his throat, and began spreading it with his thumb as lube. He felt the dick grow thick and hard in his hands, and it wasn’t long before he was able to get into a real jacking off motion, his eyes still closed.

 

“Here,” he heard, ten minutes later, just as he felt something being shoved in his free hand. He opened his eyes and looked at it – it was a glass, and he felt like gagging again as he realizes what its purpose was.

 

He held it underneath the head of Jackson’s dick, and soon after that, he felt the dick in his hand begin to lurch, before it exploded. And when he says exploded, he means it – Scott had told him that he’d been cumming a lot more since being turned, but he didn’t know he meant this much. It easily went up to fill nearly half the glass before it was done, and Jackson relaxed.

 

Stiles was still in slight shock at what had just happened, that he didn’t even notice he was still holding Jackson’s dick until the wolf slapped it away. “Okay, that’s enough. If you want to jack off over it, you’re going to have to do it at home.” He took the glass out of Stiles’ hand and turned away, and he could easily see it was a dismissal.

 

He was just in the doorway of the bedroom when Jackson called out. “Oh and Stiles? I also like to jack off a few times at school. Helps keep me calm during the day.”

 

He’s sure he let out a slight whining sound, but perhaps the wolf did have a bit of mercy, as he didn’t call him out on it.

 

~~

 

Leaving for school the next day was like preparing himself for torture. The idea of taking care of things for Jackson hadn’t been very appealing from that start, but now that he knew just what direction Jackson was planning on taking things, it was even less so.

 

When he’d tried to jack off the night before– like Jackson, he also liked to partake in a little “me-time” before bed every night – he had been haunted by the feel of the other boy’s dick, and hadn’t been able to enjoy it. Thinking about having to do that at school at some point was worse – what if someone heard them? Or saw them? Where were they going to do it?

 

“It’s for your father, Stiles,” he found himself muttering as he parked in the school parking lot. “Just do this for six weeks, you’ll get through it, and it will all go back to normal.”

 

Jackson, of course, was waiting for him when he came out. The rest of the pack was also standing around, so they watched as Jackson handed off his bag to Stiles. They looked confused when all he did was take it, but he quickly saw Scott say something to them, and figured they would get caught up on the news that way.

 

“I also brought something else for you,” Jackson surprised him by saying. “Sometimes I like to make protein drinks in the morning, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make you one as well.”

 

Stiles took the pink liquid that the werewolf held out to him suspiciously, but when he saw no ill-will hiding in his eyes, he shrugged it off and took a sip. It was raspberry, his favourite flavour. He wondered briefly how Jackson had known, _if_ he’d known, before taking a longer pull. “It’s really good, thanks man.”

 

The boy smirked at him, and the suspicion instantly came back. “I figured you deserved it, considering you helped me mix up the protein for it last night.”

 

It took a few seconds for what he said to sink in, but in no time at all, Stiles felt sick. He remembered clearly holding the cup underneath Jackson’s dick and catching all of his cum, and now that he examined the glass in his hand carefully, he could tell it was the same one. God, how hadn’t he noticed?

 

“I’m glad you like it. You’ll have to come around tonight, help me make some more, since they turned out so well. Now come on, you better hurry up, I have to put the glass back in my car before we go in.”

 

Looking around, Stiles realized that their friends were still around them. He couldn’t say anything about what was in the smoothie, because then he’d have to explain how he knew what was in it. Swallowing down the bile he vaguely felt rising in his throat, he brought the glass up to his mouth, and carefully swallowed what was left in the nearly full glass.

 

Thankfully, he still couldn’t taste a hint of what was in the smoothie, so it went down easily. That done, he handed the cup back over, and in a daze managed to find himself headed to their first class of the day.

 

Jackson was in most of Stiles’ classes. The only thing they didn’t have together was languages – Stiles was taking French, whereas the werewolf had opted for a free study period. So for the majority of the morning, he walked from class to class carrying both his and Jackson’s text books, helping the other boy open his locker and grab things from it, and taking notes for both of them. Languages was the only time he felt relaxed all day, although even that was hard to manage. He felt on edge, not knowing when Jackson was going to demand he touch him again.

 

Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised when Jackson ended up pulling him into the janitor’s closet, motioning towards his crotch. As he worked to bring Jackson off again, though, he realized something about where they were – this time, there was no nearby glass for him to catch the load in.

 

He cleared his throat, but continued moving his hand. “Um, where do you want me to, you know, put it?”

 

“I don’t know, anywhere, just find something.”

 

“There’s nothing in here, dude.”

 

The werewolf opened his eyes, and they were glowing blue. Stiles gulped, and he could almost feel the eyes on the skin of his throat, before Jackson smirked. Without saying anything, the hand not in a cast was suddenly digging into his jaw, forcing his mouth open. “Looks like there’s a convenient place to unload, right here.”

 

In his shock, Stiles had stopped moving his hand, but that didn’t seem to stop Jackson, who merely used his superior strength to force him down on his knees instead. Before he knew it, Stiles had a cock in his mouth. A cock fucking into his mouth, to be precise.

 

Despite how close he had been before, it seemed to take the werewolf ages before he tensed up, shooting deep in Stiles throat. He’d been choking the whole time, and once he finally pulled out, he could do nothing but try to catch his breath. He’s sure he looked a mess – his eyes were watering, and he can feel the drool on his chin.

 

“Well, that worked out fine. Guess we’ll know what to do in the future, now.” The werewolf grinned, turning around to leave. “Don’t be too long – I’m going to need you to get my food for me, seeing as it will be hard to carry the tray with only one hand.”

 

The door closed behind him, and Stiles remained kneeling for a minute, before he rose to follow him. It wasn’t like he could really do anything else.

 

~~

 

The next few days go the same way – he gets to school, drinks a “protein shake”, tags along with Jackson everywhere he goes, gets his face fucked at lunch (and sometimes between classes), and then goes home for a few hours before making his way back to Jackson’s, where he jacks him off into a cup for Stiles to drink in the morning.

 

It’s hell. He’s not sure how it can get much worse, but he isn’t eager to find out. Of course, as with most things about this situation, it’s not really his choice of whether he finds out or not.

 

It’s lunchtime, a week into being Jackson’s little slave, that it happens. The werewolf had just cum down his throat for what seems like the hundredth time (gotta appreciate that werewolf stamina), and Stiles is dutifully swallowing around the cum in his throat, when he realizes that he should have stopped swallowing a while ago.

 

He paused, then, taking stock of what’s going on, and manages to taste the liquid in his mouth. It’s more bitter than usual, and saltier, and thinner…

 

No. No, no, no.

 

He looks up and meets Jackson’s eyes, that are once again blue. The bastard is smirking, seeming to take great pleasure as he pissed into Stiles’ mouth. He tried to struggle for a moment, but the wolf had a tight grip on the back of his head, and he couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t do anything but swallow.

 

“I’d get used to that, if I were you,” Jackson said, using his left hand to tuck himself into his pants on his own when he was done. “After all, it’s only been a week. We’re just getting started.”

 

Jackson doesn’t ignore his whine this time – he laughs delightedly instead.


	2. The Second Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson continues his torment of Stiles, adding more to it a little at a time, whilst Stiles stresses over who might find out.

The second week of Stiles’ punishment was better… and worse.

 

Better because he now had a clear idea of what kind of things Jackson would expect him to do. Far more than just carrying books, Stiles would be expected to assist him in his sexual needs and his more basic needs.

 

Sometimes Stiles pondered how much he loved his father and wondered if it was worth it. The train of thought never went very far. He’d do anything short of murder to protect his father, and well, he’d probably even do that if the situation called for it. Thankfully, Jackson seemed to just be a deviant with a sick need to humiliate him. And hey, he hadn’t humiliated him in public.

 

Yet. That was the worse part.

 

~~

 

When Stiles gets home from the day at school, his mouth was still coated with the aftertaste of Jackson’s piss. He’d bought five sodas from the vending machines at school, and had followed all of those down with many trips to the water fountain, but the taste haunted him. Every time he swallowed, he was vividly reminded of what else he had been forced to swallow that day.

 

He bypasses his bedroom when he gets upstairs, and heads straight for the bathroom. It takes him a few minutes, but soon he’s throwing up, desperate to finally get rid of it, though he knows that it’s been so long that what’s left of the urine would have already passed through his system. When his stomach is finally empty, he’s left with only the bitter taste of puke and coke.

 

He’d always hated getting sick because of the taste, but now, he’s glad for it.

 

Leaving the bathroom, he immediately goes downstairs to grab more drinks, but pauses in the kitchen as his phone goes off. With shaking hands, Stiles takes it out of his pocket, thinking that the worst was about to come.

 

And it _is_ the worst, but not the one he was expecting.

 

In a sequence of events that make Stiles sure the universe is mocking him, he makes it to the loft at the same time as Jackson. Climbing out of his jeep, he sees the ex-kanima immediately. Jackson is smirking, seemingly waiting for Stiles by the stairs.

 

“How do you like the new equipment?”

 

Stiles blinks, still hovering by his jeep. It takes him a moment to realize what the werewolf is talking about. Where his arm had been in just a normal cast before, now Jackson was also supporting a sling, keeping the arm well attached and elevated across his chest. The sight of it brings back the afternoon, and Stiles swallows around the phantom taste of urine.

 

“My mother brought this home, said she’d read somewhere that breaks heal faster if you give them support. So I’ll be wearing this until it heals.”

 

Stiles nods, knowing the truth in what he’s saying. Having grown up around Melissa, and also having had many medical-themed ADHD research sessions, he knows what the sling is for.

 

“So now I’ll have an even _smaller_ amount of movements, which means I’m going to need your help with a lot more,” the blond says. His smirk grows larger as he sees Stiles reaction (a heady mixture of disgust, anger, and resigned acceptance).

 

“Come on, Stilinski,” he said, wrapping his good arm around his shoulders once Stiles had walked close enough and pulling him towards the building. “We’ve got an alpha to talk to. _Then_ we can get to the good stuff.”

 

Despite how much he wished, the pack meeting went by quickly. Stiles for his part was in a daze, and he barely took in what Derek was telling them about a pack that was coming to visit. All he could focus on was what was coming for him, as Jackson stood in the corner holding Lydia’s hand. The smirk never left his face.

 

~~

 

Jackson instructed him to follow him home after the pack meeting, and not wanting his friends to know something was up, he did so without complaint. He’d been in the

Whittemore house more times in the last week than he’d ever thought possible, and despite the beauty of the rich house, he was beginning to despise it. Nothing good ever happened there, at least not for Stiles.

 

The trudge up to Jackson’s room was familiar, as well, and he did it almost on autopilot.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” the blonde boy began when they finally reached his bedroom. “You know, I do still have one good hand; it’s really been unfair of me, making you do all of the work.

 

“But the thing is,” he continued. “I _always_ use two hands – one to jack with, one to fondle with. Now that I only have one,” he shook his cast-covered arm slightly in the sling, as if Stiles could have forgotten the reason he was here, “I think you can see the issue we have.”

 

Stiles didn’t like how he said _we_ , like Jackson being unable to masturbate properly was actually his problem somehow. Thought, over the last week, it had certainly _become_ his problem. Man, he couldn’t wait for that cast to come off.

 

“It’s always nice having someone else get you off, but really, there’s nothing like your own hand. No one knows what you like quite as much as yourself, after all,” Jackson mused. During his little speech, he’d started undoing his pants and pushing them down, revealing himself to Stiles’ eyes. It had, sadly, become a more than familiar sight.

 

“So I thought we’d compromise,” he finally seemed to get to the point, sitting down on the edge of his bed with his legs spread, lying back on the pillows. “I’ll use my good hand to work my dick, and you’ll handle my sack. That’s more than fair, don’t you think?”

 

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, not answering, trying to remind himself why he had ever gone along with this plan, before he opened them again. Jackson’s eyes were glowing blue as they looked at him, and it caused him to sigh. Rolling his eyes, he made his way to where he knew Jackson wanted him, ending up on his knees on the floor, in-between the overhanging legs. He brought his hand up slowly, somehow finding this worse than when he’d jacked him off.

 

He was stopped when the legs beside him came up to rest over his shoulders, pulling his face into the crotch in front of him.

 

“Ah, ah,” the wolf said mockingly, as if he were disciplining a small, naïve child. “ _You_ don’t get to use your hands.”

 

He already had the subject of the conversation at his lips, so giving in (not that he had a choice; Jackson had more power and strength in one of his legs than Stiles had in his whole body), he opened them slightly and pulled one ball, and then the other, into his mouth, and beginning to suck on them. The wolf relaxed his legs slightly, though Stiles did not believe in anyway that he wasn’t still being held in place.

 

What he got was a close up show to Jackson’s masturbating sessions for the rest of the night, his mouth full, face crushed into place by the strong thighs. The taste was incomparable; Stiles definitely preferred blowjobs to this, though he’d never before thought he’d ever prefer the taste of dick to anything.

 

When Jackson finally let him leave for home, his face was dripping in sweat and fluids that were not purely his own.

 

~~

 

On both Saturday and Sunday, the wolf had called him over at ass-o’clock in the morning. Stiles had wished had the courage to ignore the calls – he had taken a long shower the night before, and yet he still swore that his face and neck were coated in sweat still. He could certainly still smell it.

 

Mr. Whittemore had let him into the house with a glare both times, and Stiles had been tempted to say something along the lines of “if you knew what I was doing here, you’d be glaring for a whole different reason” but he _did_ value his life, contrary to what a stupid, broody Alpha might say.

 

When he got up to Jackson’s room both days it was to see the wolf still in bed. He’d been tempted to just turn around and leave at first, thinking Jackson had fallen back asleep and thus giving Stiles an out, but a flash of bright blue eyes had convinced him otherwise.

 

He’d been ordered gruffly to get under the sheets, and thus he had sucked the wolf off whilst he lounged in bed, helping him get rid of his morning wood. He’d dutifully swallowed every mouthful down, fearing the rage he would have to face if he spilled any on the sheets.

 

On Saturday, the wolf had sneered and told him that he couldn’t have Stiles missing his daily protein shake before drifting off again. On Sunday, he hadn’t needed to explain anything, had just shoved the human away and gone back to sleep afterwards. Stiles had been too nervous both times to leave, not knowing what was expected of him in that instance, and had stuck around for another half hour both times just in case; he didn’t want to go home only to be called back immediately.

 

Jackson had eyed him down both times when he’d awoken again, before gesturing back to his crotch.

 

Stiles drank down the piss just as silently as he had the cum, taking even more care not spill.

 

“You can leave now,” Jackson then slurred out, already falling back to sleep. “Come back at noon.”

 

Stiles had walked out the front door with Mr. Whittemore once again glaring at him, a bad taste in his mouth for more than one reason.

 

~~

 

The smoothies at school continued, though to Stiles’ chagrin, Jackson seemed to start caring less and less if he hid what he’d been putting in it. He started making vanilla shakes, and they were white and liquid-y and if Stiles didn’t know that it would be physically impossible for someone to cum enough in twelve hours to fill a glass this much, he would say it wasn’t anything but semen.

 

Lydia had given them a glance or two while he’d been drinking of them, and Stiles lived in constant fear that Lydia would put two and two together and get five. He’d only underestimated her once before – when he’d thought that she might not find out about any of the werewolf stuff after she’d been bitten – and he knew not to do it again. He would have to pull out all the tricks to slide this one past her.

 

~~

 

From his place underneath Jackson, his mouth stuffed with the werewolf’s balls, Stiles could feel more than see him jacking off. This position had become an almost daily thing now, since the day after the pack meeting. He couldn’t decide if it was better than having to actually suck the wolf off, or worse. It was a difficult position to remain in, kneeling behind Jackson and tilting his head up and under him so that he could get the proper angle. It meant that his nose was jammed into Jackson’s ass, and Stiles could have gone the rest of his life without knowing what that particular area of the jock smelled like. What made it worse was that it was clear Jackson didn’t wipe very well.

 

He made no complaint about that particular issue though; he didn’t want to find out what the boy would make him do about it.

 

He sucked gently on the scrotum, resisting the urge to bite down in resentment; he had already been hunted my werewolves enough to know that he didn’t particularly want to die at one’s hand.

 

As he sensed Jackson getting close, he sucked a little bit harder, even resignedly bringing his tongue up, as if he worked to coax the cum out of them. The more he helped Jackson get off, the sooner this dose of hell would be over.

 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting; whenever they’d done something at school before, Jackson had always emptied into his mouth. For obvious reasons, his mouth was currently occupied with something else, and thus unavailable. He supposes, later, that he had thought Jackson would have found a bucket or something, or maybe even just gone off in his hand and washed them later.

 

When the orgasm rushed over the wolf, however, he did neither of those things. Instead, he spun quickly just as he started to spurt, jarring Stiles from his position and leaving him gaping mouthed. Most probably would have expected Jackson to shove his cock in there and finish, but that would have been a little too obvious. If Stiles had learned one thing, it’s that Jackson could be surprisingly devious for a one-track-mind jock.

 

The cum ended up landing over his t-shirt in long strokes, coating it as if it was icing stripes on a cupcake. When most of it had landed on his torso, _that_ was when Jackson moved forward to insert his dick into his still-open mouth, wiping the head over the exposed bit of his tongue to clean the last of it off. He swallowed without thinking, but then drew back into himself, pushing the wolf away.

 

“What the fuck, dude!” Stiles whisper-yelled, aware as ever that if somebody were right outside the door they’d be able to hear them. And with all of the supernaturals running around, some people didn’t _need_ to be right outside the door. “This is the only shirt I have here!”

 

Jackson merely smirked at his outrage, tucking his dick back into his pants leisurely. “You better hope that’ll come off, then.” The werewolf had the nerve to pat him on the head, as if he were a dog, before he left Stiles kneeling alone in the closet.

 

He ended up sneaking as best he could to the locker room, and giving his shirt a desperate scrubbing. Luckily,

 

When he joined up with Scott at lunch, the other wolf gave him a strange look.

 

“What,” Stiles asked, immediately wiping his hand over his mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

 

Wrinkling his nose up, Scott shook his head. “Dude, did you really need to do that _here_?”

 

“You know,” Scott said insistently, making a very telling

 

“Oh,” Stiles said dumbly, shocked into silence for once. _At least Scott thinks it’s mine_ , he thought glumly, though really was having your best friend think you were so horny that you jacked off in the school bathroom that much better? “What can I say, dude,” he said at last. “When you gotta, you gotta.”

 

Still keeping his nose wrinkled, Stiles could swear Scott glanced towards Jackson before he dropped the subject. Really, it was probably just his nerves getting to him.

 

~~

 

Stiles wondered if keeping his dad from being sued was really worth all of this.

 

He knows that if he were to gather some evidence on what Jackson was doing, no judge would take the werewolf’s side, no matter how good of a lawyer he had. He also knew, though, that it would be nearly impossible for him to prove what was happening; Jackson rarely let him have any free time anymore, when would he be able to set up cameras or recorders o

 

And then there was the fact that Jackson was a werewolf. An obvious fact, yes, but if Stiles _were_ somehow able to record Jackson forcing him to suck him off or drink his piss, how would he explain the glowing eyes? He also knows from previous attempts at taking pictures with Scott that the glow nearly covers the entire face; would a judge even believe that it truly was Jackson, without proper video evidence to prove it was?

 

Sure, werewolves can prevent the flare from ruining photos or videos, but it would be more then suspicious if he asked Jackson to hold back on the glow the next time they were alone together; the wolf would know immediately that he was trying to film him.

 

But despite how impossible it was for Stiles to see a way out of it, it didn’t prevent him from _wanting_ one; every time Jackson pulled him into an empty room at school, or called

 

Stiles knows that the pack can tell something is up with him, but he also knows that whatever they’re thinking is wrong must be nowhere near the truth. It’s the only good thing about this situation, that his friends have no idea it’s going on. He can take solace in that, can suffer in silence for a few weeks, for his father.

 

That’s why, when Jackson first brought out the gag, a chill went down his spine.

 

It was a urinal gag; something Stiles only recognized because of his addiction to researching weird things. Months ago, he’d found himself going down the rabbit hole of extreme BDSM, and, well, this type of gag was one of the many that he had read about and had been simultaneously horrified and fascinated by. He just didn’t understand how people could get off on something like that.

 

It would be just his luck that Jackson would not only know about them, but want to use one, too. And Stiles had an odd feeling that he wouldn’t just be

 

“I figured this would help when I’ve got a lot for you; can’t have you spilling anything, though really, you’ll be the one cleaning it up if you do.”

 

He doesn’t know why he didn’t try to get away, or just to do anything but stand there as Jackson used his one hand to shove the tube part of the gag into his mouth. Doesn’t know why he bit down on it slightly to hold it in place, or why when he got a particularly mean glare from Jackson, he lifted his hands up behind him to strap the gag firmly in place.

 

When a small padlock was handed to him next, all Stiles did was grab it and lock it into place, effectively trapping him in the horrendous gag.

 

“There,” the werewolf said when it was all in place. “That should work perfectly. Come.”

 

He followed him into the bathroom, and did nothing to protest as he was shoved down onto his knees, wincing at the pain that reverberated through his kneecaps. It was moments like that that made him wonder again how it had been possible for him to tackle Jackson at all.

 

A loud _clanking_ sound brought him back to himself, and he realized what was happening just moments before he felt the tight, metallic grip around his wrist. Pulling on it immediately, his eyes followed his arm to the sensation to confirm his suspicions: Jackson had locked a rather thick cuff around his wrist. The cuff was attached to a chain that was in turn looped around the toilet and lock on with a much bigger padlock than the one he’d put on the gag.

 

“Just one should do it,” Jackson said, looking down at him as if admiring the sight. “Derek gave me some of these when I first turned, so that I could use them on the full moons if I needed them. I only used them once, but I decided to keep them, just in case. When this whole thing started, I was glad I did.” The smirk he had been wearing turned into a sneer as he moved his gaze from the chains to Stiles. “It’ll help keep you in your place.”

 

He should have been expecting it when the next thing Jackson did was whip out his dick and relieve himself into the opening of the gag. It made Stiles choke more; before when they’d done this, it had been as far down his throat as Stiles could make the dick get, but this time it spilled over his tongue in warm gusts.

 

“Yea,” the other boy sighed as he was finishing up. “That works a lot better.” He shook himself off a few times, the last couple of stray drops splashing down into the gag, before he tucked himself back in.

 

He turned to leave then, and Stiles’ felt his eyes widen. A slightly strangled protest came out of the mouth of the gag, and he pulled on the chains tightly. Sure, he knew that being locked into place certainly _meant_ something, but he’d thought it was just an aesthetic thing. Like Jackson just liked the look of him chained up, not that he would actually keep him there.

 

“Calm down,” the wolf sneered. “I’ll be back soon to fill you up some more; I’ve got a lot of studying to do today, it’ll be great having a proper toilet hanging around. You’ll be fine just where you are.

 

“And don’t worry,” Jackson smirked. “My parents aren’t home, though I was thinking of inviting a few of my friends over.”

 

And with that, Jackson turned the light off in the bathroom, leaving Stiles kneeling alone in the dark, gag in place. He shivered as he wondered just what friends Jackson was talking about.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is unbeta'd, so if you see any errors please feel free to comment about them. Also, feel free to comment if there is an issue with the tagging - I'll be sure to fix it up straight away.
> 
> I'm always open to take any prompts you might have over on my tumblr @forbiddenkinks-ao3 - feel free to message me an idea or IM me if you ever want to talk kink!
> 
> Dubious Consent - Stiles really doesn't want to be doing all of these things, but the fear brought on by Jackson's threat to have his father sue him makes him do it.


End file.
